


Adjustment

by sencha



Series: Homecoming [2]
Category: Sinbad (TV)
Genre: Gen, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sencha/pseuds/sencha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps he had made a place for himself between the old world and the new, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adjustment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winterhill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterhill/gifts).



> Spoilers for up to Episode 7.

Up close, the university looked terribly large and imposing. Anwar hid behind the wall as a scholar left the building, butchering a popular folk tune.

 

"You know," he said, "maybe we should come back another day."

 

Sinbad stared at him. "What's wrong? Don't you want to see them?"

 

"Well, I do," said Anwar, clutching at his robes, "but I'm not so sure they'll want to see me after what happened last ti –"

 

"Let's go say ‘hi’ to Anwar's parents!" whooped Sinbad, dashing out from behind the wall and up the stairs.

 

Gunnar walked very quickly after him. "Sinbad, wait! One does not simply run into the university like an uneducated buffoon!"

 

Nala frowned. "What's the difference between running and what Gunnar's doing?"

 

Rina shrugged. Anwar tugged at his hair.

 

"When walking, one foot maintains contact with the ground at all times," he replied automatically before remembering what he had been trying to say. "That's not the point! What if my parents don't want to see me anymore? Rina, I told you I'd basically disowned myself standing up for you!"

 

The ex-thief poked him.

 

"Did they tell you that you were disowned?" she asked, ignoring his yelp of pain. Anwar ignored her. She stabbed him with her finger again. "Well, did they?"

 

"No," he mumbled, "but I disobeyed them and left again! I might as well have told them I didn't want to be part of the family anymore!"

 

Rina rolled her eyes. "As expected from the guy who was never late to class."

 

"But nobody was late to class!" Anwar protested as she dragged him up the stairs. "That would be rude to the teachers!"

 

 

 

"Anwar," his mother called, pulling him down into a crushing embrace. "We were so worried about you! You've finally come home!"

 

"It's good to see you too," he said, or attempted to; half his face was squashed against her chest so he couldn't be sure she had understood him.

 

Sinbad sniggered. Anwar hoped the man choked on a fishbone and died during lunch. Then he erased the thought from his mind. That was a horrible thing to think about his friend.

 

His father coughed.

 

"You must all stay for lunch," the elderly man said. He shot his son a meaningful look. "We can talk over _za'atar_."

 

"We'll provide the spices," offered Sinbad. "We bought some at the market just now."

 

"Excellent!" said Anwar's mother. She hugged him tighter. "I'll make something absolutely wonderful, dear. Now go sit your guests down."

 

"Mmpf," replied Anwar, his head still buried in her bosom.

 

 

 

"I'm very sorry about last time," his father said to Rina, spooning _za'atar_ over her serving of fish. "You must understand that it was such a shock to hear that our child was associating with criminals. But we know now that it was all a lie set up by that horrid woman. I suppose we should have known a woman as beautiful as you couldn't be a thief."

 

Apart from Sinbad, who could never resist good food, everybody at the table busied themselves with their napkins, their bowls still untouched.

 

Rina gritted her teeth and pasted a smile on her face. "You don't need to apologize," she said. "I must have seemed very suspicious after you had heard all of that."

 

"Exactly!" beamed Anwar's mother. "Sinbad, are you okay there?"

 

Sinbad was rapidly turning a shade of bright red.

 

"I'm fine," he croaked. "I think the spices were a little too spicy. And I'm really itchy. But it's okay. I'm fine."

 

To prove it, he scooped a large spoonful of _za'atar_ -covered fish into his mouth. He then proceeded to spit it back into his bowl, choking.

 

For one heart-stopping second, Anwar wondered if his earlier thoughts had somehow cursed Sinbad into actually choking on a fishbone and dying. He was flooded with a wave of guilt.

 

"Stop staring and do something!" yelled Rina. She whacked Sinbad's back. He coughed. She hit him again.

 

Anwar ran through the symptoms in his mind. Rashes, itchiness, choking. Rashes. Itchy rashes. Food. Spices.

 

"The spices we bought!" he shouted.

 

Rina glared at him. "Anwar, stop spacing out and do something!"

 

"No, it was the spices Sinbad gave my mother for the _za'atar_! When we bought them–never mind, I'll explain later. Gunnar, can you get me some cold water? As much as you can."

 

Gunnar nodded, face pale.

 

"Nobody eat any more of the _za'atar_ ," Anwar ordered. "It's poisonous."

 

His mother slammed her hand down on the table. "I am sorry for what I did before, Anwar. But I most certainly did not try to poison your friends."

 

"No, it wasn't you," Anwar said, running through remedies in his mind. Gunnar returned with the water. "Father, can you get some bandages for us?"

 

"What's the magic word?"

 

"Just do it!"

 

"Don't talk to your father that way!"

 

Anwar poured some of the water into a cup and handed it to Sinbad.

 

"Drink this. Then get another glass and drink more. If you can't swallow, swish it around in your mouth and spit it out." He turned back to his mother. "Somebody needs medical treatment! I don't have time to be respectful!"

 

"There is always time to be respectful to your parents, young man. It's because you've been spending all your time with ruffians like this that you think you can get away with such uncouth behavior."

 

Anwar ignored her.

 

"Father. Please."

 

His father was already returning with strips of cloth. "You cannot pick when to be polite and when not to be, Anwar. Now, you need these soaked in water, don't you?"

 

"Thank you, father." Anwar dipped the strips in the bucket and began laying them over Sinbad's reddened skin. "There's nothing more we can do for the moment. We'll have to wait until the rash subsides on its own."

 

"How long will that take?" asked Nala.

 

"Two to three weeks," said Anwar. "We'll have to find somewhere to stay."

 

"You and your friends may stay with us," his father boomed, startling Anwar into dropping a bandage.

 

"Father," Anwar breathed. "Thank you."

 

His father looked at him. "You didn't learn how to treat and diagnose poison sumac in medical school."

 

Anwar blushed.

 

"I did a lot of reading on the ship," he explained. "Besides, I knew Sinbad had annoyed a lot of merchants when we were shopping. It made sense that one of them would try to give him a different product than the one we bought. That reminds me: we should probably check the leftover spices to make sure they're not poisonous too."

 

"Are you happy?" his father barked suddenly. Anwar frowned.

 

"What?"

 

"Are you happy?" the old man repeated. "On the ship?"

 

Anwar could only stare.

 

"I–yes?" he ventured. "I'm happy?"

 

His father squinted at him suspiciously. Without realizing what he was doing, Anwar began to wrap bandages around his own arms instead of Sinbad's.

 

"Really?"

 

"Yes, I'm happy!" Anwar said, frustrated. He saw his mother frown at him disapprovingly in his peripheral vision. "Sorry. I mean, yes, father, I'm sure I'm happy. Thank you for asking."

 

"Anwar!" his mother cried, wrapping him in her arms again and laying her cheek on his head. Sinbad made a sound of protest as Anwar dropped the bandages. "You're all grown up."

 

Something suspiciously wet fell on his forehead.

 

"You have made some good friends," his father continued, taking no notice of the strange scene. The old man turned his gaze upon Rina, who had taken up the fallen bandages and was finishing up Sinbad's mummification. "Take care of him, my daughter."

 

She went almost as red as Sinbad. "I'll do my best."

 

Anwar's father clapped him on the back.

 

"It's good to have you home, son."

 

 

 

Back at the ship, Cook chopped a clove of garlic into miniscule chunks.

 

"I wonder why it's taking them so long to buy me some spices."

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to not_madeleine for being an awesome beta and providing amazingly useful feedback for this!


End file.
